


nights like these

by joisattempting



Series: look over there it's a wild falsettos college au [3]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Crack, F/F, Grocery Shopping, Late at Night, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Skype, dyslexic whizzer, further emphasis that whizzer is a foodie, i love that headcanon leave me alone, i should be studying oops, it's gonna happen tho i promise, marvin shops for salt, whizzvin isn't a thing yet :0
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joisattempting/pseuds/joisattempting
Summary: marvin, whizzer, charlotte, and cordelia call on skype.





	nights like these

**Author's Note:**

> diddly dee it's part three  
this fic has no plot-driving force but i love it a lot so pls give it a chance it'd mean a lot to me uwu  
if you have any tips on writing dyslexic characters, feel free to let me know :)  
wow i love these four a whole lot
> 
> i had to google "good brands of salt" for this so you're welcome  
comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

Outside, sirens wailed and car horns honked in irritation. Loud whining and screaming could be heard from passersby and taxi drivers alike. Harsh, artificial white light filtered through sheer, blue curtains and spilled into the apartment. Yet the night was quiet. The only noise one could register was the light click of laptop keys as Charlotte puzzled over her homework or the occasional clatter of various cooking appliances - Cordelia was making dinner. She was also growing suspicious of what was producing that strange rustling noise coming from behind the locked door to Whizzer and Marvin’s room. The latter had been ushered out of the house to buy spices for dinner, despite the fact that he was the worst grocery shopper known to man. 

Nights like these were common amongst the group of six. When the two campus residents couldn’t make the ten minute walk due to revision or clubs, and the other four were gasping for air in a raging sea of coursework. They’d come home in the evening after classes, and then, until it was time to rest, it was as though the apartment had been turned on mute. Thick, somewhat comfortable silence would engulf them in its clutches, and nobody thought to break it. Sometimes, they’d forget there were other people in the room. It had become a tradition that the chef of the group would make dinner, a means of summoning them from the depths of their work and bringing the group together. Everyone, including Cordelia, had found it sickeningly cringe, but they appreciated it. She knew they did. 

It was weird - they all had designated seating arrangements for nights like these. Charlotte had the living room couch, which allowed her to hog the coffee table and spread out all the books she had for reasons unbeknownst to the others. When she wasn’t cooking up a storm, Cordelia sat in the guys’ room with Whizzer. Marvin’s study area constantly alternated between the kitchen island and the desk under the window. It was a system, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A Skype notification appeared on Charlotte’s screen. It was a group call invitation from Marvin. Sighing, the girl set aside her textbook and pressed the green answer button. “Hi, Marvin,” she said with mock irritation. 

“Char! Is Dee there?” the man said as he wandered around the grocery store. 

“Dee, Marvin says to answer the phone. Your laptop’s in our room,” the doctor called out. Licking her fingers, the blonde skipped to their room and, soon enough, joined the call. 

“This is Cordelia Rose Thompson, coming to you from the Chicken Coupe,” she said with a mock salute. She’d taken it upon herself to make the executive decision of naming her and her girlfriend’s bedroom. In fact, every room in the house had a title. Begrudgingly, the other three had to admit that it did make it easier when items got lost. “What’s up, Marvin?”

“What was the name of the salt you wanted?” the curly-haired law student asked. “I didn’t pay attention when you told me. Too busy wondering why we can’t just use any salt,”

Sharply, the blonde inhaled, like they’d had this conversation on more occasions than she’d like to admit. “Because,” she added extra emphasis to the word. “The kind of salt can make or break a dish. You use the wrong salt, and the whole meal is fucked,”

“They literally taste the same. They’re all salt. Sodium and chlorine,”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “You still remember that?”

Cordelia ran a hand through her messy blonde mop. “It’s like saying all water tastes the same,”

“They don’t?”

A theatrical, dramatic gasp could be heard from Whizzer’s room, followed by a clattering sound that made the girls wince. The tall brunet appeared on the screen. He was sitting on the floor, computer in front of him. He was bare-chested, and had probably only slipped on pajama bottoms for the sake of the others. In his lap was a bag of chips, and a camera was slung around his neck. “Marv, I know you’re not too religious, but this is a sin,” he said earnestly. 

“Yeah,” Cordelia backed him up. “That could probably warrant, like, fifty millenia in purgatory,”

Still looking at the various salts, Marvin rolled his eyes. “Dee, not all of us are Catholic. You’re literally the only person in our group that’s not Jewish,”

“I’m just further emphasising the point that you’re sinning, Marvin Alexander Feldman,”

Grabbing a few of the developed pictures from his bed, Whizzer began to delicately place them into an album. The label on the front read “COURSEWORK” in large, messy letters. The man’s handwriting had never been the neatest - his dyslexia had his parents worried that their son wouldn’t be able to write at all. Or read, for that matter. It was a hindrance to him to this day, what with an abundance of spelling mistakes and grammar errors and reading issues. The others couldn’t empathise with the dyslexia aspect, but they did understand what he was going through - Marvin’s anger issues got him in trouble. Charlotte and Cordelia’s very open, shameless relationship made them an easy target for the stuck-up smartasses that every university had. People laughed at Trina’s nervous stutter. Mendel was, needless to say, no stranger to oppression. That was how, they supposed, each of them had found each other, and gave the outcasts a group to belong to. “I still find it weird that ‘Alexander’ is your middle name. Like, out of all things, that,”

“Right, because Alexander is a really exotic name,”

Cordelia frowned, tilting her head to the side. “Are those chips, Whizzer?”

Whizzer’s brown eyes widened, and he hid the bag behind his back. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“So that’s what the rustling was. We’re literally having dinner in fifteen minutes,”

Charlotte laughed from behind her textbook. “What, do you expect him to be full by then, or something?”

“And you say you’ve known him the longest,”  
Marvin scoffed jokingly as he examined a tube of white salt. 

“I’m just saying I don’t want him to spoil his appetite,” the blonde said, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Chuckling, Whizzer shut the album and tossed it onto the bed. Marvin’s expression softened, and he looked away from the salt for a millisecond. Secretly, he loved the way Whizzer’s eyes squinted and how his face scrunched up when he laughed. It did so when he was genuinely happy, whether he be howling with mirth or just giggling softly. It reminded Marvin of a child in the best possible way, as a lot of things about Whizzer did. He’d have told anyone else to grow up if they sat on the kitchen island and swung their dangling legs while they stuffed themselves with cookies. With Whizzer, it was another story. It was just natural with Whizzer. Nobody questioned it. At least, not anymore. All this was secret, however. Very secret. 

“Dee, trust me. I’m the last person you have to worry about spoiling their appetite. I had a croissant twenty minutes ago, and I’m fine,”

“Of fucking course you did. That was my croissant, you bastard,” Charlotte said trenchantly, although she was doing her best to suppress a snigger. 

“I’ll be honest, I’m not sorry,” Whizzer smiled. “But fifteen minutes? I’ll be starving then,”

Marvin held up a tube of salt to the camera. “This okay, Dee?”

“Shit, why is it pink?” Charlotte squinted. Out of all four of them, she knew the least about cooking. Once she’d exploded a microwave, because she didn’t know you had to put the food item on a plate first. 

“It’s Pink Himalayan. It’s supposed to be really healthy or something. Yeah, that one’s good, Marvin,” the blonde said matter-of-factly. 

“Fuck, is that Callahan?” the law student wore an expression of unadulterated fear as he stared at something the others couldn’t see. “The lying bastard said he was sick. I gotta go, you guys. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and all that. I’ll see you at dinner!” 

And with that, he ended the call so he could go hide in a freezer, or something. 

Cordelia heard the oven’s incessant beeping, and got to her feet. “That’s the potatoes done. I’ll see you outside, Char,” she grinned, and before she knew it, Whizzer, Charlotte, and herself were staring at their contact screens.

Maybe nights like these would change for the better.


End file.
